Bedder Den Fiddy by SkyeHigh (Femanon/Soarin)

Bedder Den Fiddy by SkyeHigh (fimfiction.net/user/SkyeHigh)

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>Be FemAnon
>Be 7/10
>Somehow you wound up in Equestria
>Somehow you became the official Discipliner of the Wonderbutts... eh --bolts
>They gave you a magic trinket so you can stay on the clounds
>Never explained why and you couldn’t care less
>You’re just doing your job
>And you do your job well, that’s why they respect you... and some fear you

>Enough introductions, we’re here for the action

>Yesterday they informed you about your next job for today
>Seems like someone was stupid enough to raid the team fridge in the night AND getting caught too
>The culprit was Soarin
>Cute little stallion
>You always kinda liked him and the way he always acts around you makes you think he’s got the hots for you too
>Anyway, according to the Wonderbolts’ rules bedtime is at 2200 because they get up at 0500
>And absolutely no eating after bedtime as that’s bad for the sleep and shape
>Yes, they are really strict about their rules and enforce them without hesitation
>He was sentenced to ‘50 smacks of the paddle to the unprotected rump outside at the Red Plaza’
>Wide open place outside the main building with a little raised platform in the middle and benches for the audience
>The added humiliation of everyone seeing you getting your ass thrashed has so far prevented any repeat offenders
>Time is set for 1000 which is in a bit
>The first few veterans and some rookies are already seated
>Your seat, an old wooden chair and your weapon, the black leather paddle are in place on the platform
>Due to your human physique it’s a lot easier for you to sit down and take the bad Wonderbolts across your lap than some sort of pillory
>The higher-ups also congratulated you for this revolution as it’s even more embarrassing and their fancy-shmancy statistics said it lowered the rule infraction rate even more
>Whatever, you don’t care about that
>And... Oh hey, here they come
>A jumpy and nervous looking Soarin flanked by two other Wonderbolts, all in their uniforms
>You stand there and watch on as they close in and take the few steps onto the platform
>All other eyes are glued on them too and follow their steps
>By now the plaza has filled considerably
>They stop in front of you, the two escorts salute you briefly and turn on the spot without a word
>The whole place falls dead silent
>Soarin’s been avoiding looking at you so far
“Soarin!” you address him loudly and his head snaps up to you
>Everyone seems to be listening very intently now as if you were Celestia herself
“You’ve been found guilty of the rule violations: stealing food from other teammates, eating after bedtime and getting caught outside your room past your bedtime. Accordingly to the Wonderbolt guidelines you’ve been sentenced to 50 smacks with the paddle to the unprotected rump.”
>The stallion winces visibly as if already whacked when you recited his foalish crimes
“Do you accept your punishment?”
>The question is more rhetorical than anything
>If he wouldn’t have accepted they’d have kicked him out by now already
>But coming here will give him a new start over, no grudges held... and a sore rump
>”I-I... accept!” he stammers out
“Very well”
>You step back and take a seat on the chair, before picking up the leather paddle from it
>It’s thick and unyielding, almost like solid wood
“Remove your uniform and then crawl over my knee!”
>You pat your right thigh for added effect
>Soarin’s head snaps left and right, realizing everyone is watching him now intently and seeing if he’ll cooperate
>He wouldn’t be the first Wonderbutt you’d have to get by yourself and restrain properly
>Slowly, awkwardly and embarrassed beyond reason he pulls his zipper down on the front and steps out of the spandex, discarding it in a pile to the side
>You just watch on expectantly, this is nothing new
>Not the first oversized colt you had over your lap
>Biting his lip he steps up to your right side, putting his hooves up on your thigh and crawling over, kicking himself off the floor with his hoofsies
>You grab his long navy-blue tail at the tip with your left hand and wrap it around once, pulling it taut
>Then you pull his waist close to your body and hold him down
>Many hot-headed rookies thought just because you were a female they could struggle all they want
>But they were all mistaken, years of doing this job gave you an iron grip
>As you tap tap the paddle against his exposed bottom you get an idea
>Got nothing to do with his squirms from the patting
>Like mentioned you do this for... a long time now and you’re respected and trusted
>Means you can make changes to the spanking as long as you keep an equivalent value
>And something tells you a sensitive type like Soarin would ‘benefit’ a lot more from some more humiliation than some more bruises
“Soarin...” you speak up, “I’ll make you an offer”
>Low hushed whispers break out in the gathered audience
>They all know about your ‘special deals’ and try guessing what it’ll be this time
“I’ll only give you 30 whacks with this paddle here...”
>You tap his rump again with it
>This and his squirming is so much fun to you
“...if you count every single one loud and clear for everyone to hear like a good boy”
>The hushed whispers get louder and you can make out single lines from their conversations
>”I could never do that...”
>”...too embarrassing”
>”Bedder den fiddy”
>”Poor Soarin...”
>”Can he even count that far?”
>”I bet he can only count to apple pi”
>You wait on patiently as you see Soarin close his eyes shut in desperate thinking
>”I-I... a-accept...” he repeats his earlier agreeing
>Seconds later he slaps his hooves over his head and pulls them down over his ears and face with gritted teeth
>Must be thinking something like ‘I-I am so d-doomed...’ you muse
>Well, no time like the present
>You raise up your weapon of ass destruction and smack him square over both cheeks
>”GAH! Ffffff--” he howls in surprise as his hind legs kick out violently
>”O-one...” he stammers out after a few moments
“Tsk tsk... that was neither loud nor clear, Soarin. Shame... I thought we had a deal”
“Better go for fifty after all...”
>”ONE!” he practically shouts now in fear
“That’s a good boy,” you praise, grinning widely
SMACK!
>The next connects
>“T-TWO!”
WHACK!
>”T-T-THREEEE!”
>Whispers break out again in the audience
>”Didn’t think he could count that far”
>”She hits really hard”
>”Yeah, that way 30 or 50 won’t be very different”
>You go on at a relaxed pace, making that stallion savour each one to the fullest
CRACK!
>”AhhhhHOW! F-FOUR!”
>Oho, a sniffle already
>He’ll be in tears by the tenth
>His rump is showing some color too, pale pink glow in contrast to his light blue hair
>Fast forward
>He dutifully counted every single one so far up to 25
>Though the pauses between his howling in pain and the count are getting larger
>Oh yeah, also at the tenth he broke down in sobs and cries like you predicted, you know your stunt flyers after all
>You raise the paddle for the next one and get a glance at his face
>His hooves are pulling on his mane in an attempt to busy himself
>Tears, snot, drool... all is leaking down without holding back
>His rump looks battered and is glowing reddish, well... not much more
WHACK!
>The next spank hits and his struggles after each one died down as well
>He’s just taking them and yelling in agony
>”WAHAAAAAA!”
>A pause, a sob, hoofsies kicking
>”T-t-twenty-s-six...”
“I didn’t hear you, Soarin”
TAP TAP
“You really want 50 so close to the end?”
>”TWENTY-SIX!”
>Atta boy
>That gets them every time
>WHACK!
>”TWENTY-SEVEEEEEEEN!” he shouts in a long drawn out howl
>WHACK!
>”T-TWENTY-EE--” Soarin almost chokes on his snot there and coughs loudly
>”...E-EIGHT!”
>You glance in the crowd for a bit
>Fearful faces everywhere
>No one dares making fun of the scene, knowing full well they could easily wind up here at anytime
>WHACK!
>”AHHAAAOWW FFFF.... TWEN-TWENTY-NINE!”
“Last one, big boy!”
>As expected he tenses up when you say that, expecting a really good one
>You give him a few seconds to relax again, don’t want him to hurt himself
>Three
>Two
>One
>...
CRACK!
>Soarin nearly jumps out of his skin and wails loudly
>All the misery’s coming out now as he sobs and bawls like a little colt
>After some time though he’s coming to himself and notices you still got your arm slung around him
>Cue realization hit
>”THIRTY! THIRTY! P-please no m-more!”
“Close call, mister”
>You let his tail go and begin to pull him up into your arms
>The audience, that was holding their breaths so far, break out in cheers and whistles
>Slowly at first as if unsure what to do
>But they all join in being teammates and unity and shit
>The stallion in your arms buries his face in your chest and sniffles quietly, surely aware how he’s got his back on them and how they all can properly see his disciplined bottom
>You take that opportunity to whisper to him, holding his back with one arm and rub his rump with the other
“If you want to... meet me tonight after bedtime in my room, cutie”
“...don’t let anyone catch you though or we’re here again tomorrow.”
>You let Soarin down on his hooves then and watch him hobble around in circles, butt blazing for sure
>He won’t be raiding any fridges anytime soon... but maybe he’ll raid something else tonight
>You give him a final wink and he looks away, blushing furiously
>END...for now